


Stay

by maybesandsomedays, ohfiitz



Series: HYDRA AU [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hydra!Simmons AU, Mild Sexual Content, Pregnancy, Some Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 03:30:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2717270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybesandsomedays/pseuds/maybesandsomedays, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohfiitz/pseuds/ohfiitz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a one-night stand turns out to be between supreme enemies. Who then find they rather enjoy hooking up...despite being the heads of the science divisions of S.H.I.E.L.D. and HYDRA. Hydra!Simmons AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. love's a game, wanna play?

Simmons rolls her eyes. S.H.I.E.L.D. is too late to even try and stop the mission, and at this point killing them is nothing more than a nuisance, like crushing a few pesky bugs beneath her feet.

She pulls out her gun and goes to meet the agents. There are so few she can take them out on her own, and she almost laughs at how depleted S.H.I.E.L.D.’s resources are getting.

She takes the first few out immediately, reveling in the way their bodies hit the floor, the sweetest sight and sound in the world.

Then there’s cool metal against the back of her neck, and she curses herself for letting someone sneak up on her as well as the agents under her command for allowing it to happen, despite them not being in the room.

“So how many of your friends can I be expecting?” asks the man holding her at gunpoint cockily, and she raises an eyebrow, interest piqued. She knows that voice, that particular Scottish brogue.

She’d heard it screaming her name just last night. In his bed. While she worked between his thighs.

Fitz hates field missions. He’s the bloody _Chief_ of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s Sci-Tech Division, for crying out loud. He prefers being in the lab, minding his own projects, supervising the department. He even prefers doing the boring administrative paperwork than all this double-oh-seven stuff. Still, their informant has tipped that this particular mission involves the head of HYDRA’s Science Division himself (or herself. They never knew the person’s name. HYDRA is great at protecting the identity of their high-ranking officials, that he can admit), and he didn’t want to miss it.

Then the woman turns around, lifting her own gun to meet his, and Fitz’s eyes go wide with shock. Oh shit, not _her_. Anyone but _her_.

“ _Jemma?_ ”

She grins, looking for all the world like the Cheshire cat and like she could murder him seven different ways using only her pinky finger. Which she probably could. “Hey, Fitz. Long time no see.”

“You’re HYDRA?” It’s not the most brilliant thing to be saying, under the circumstances, but he’s dumbstruck. He can’t believe the smart, gorgeous woman he’d slept with last night turned out to be evil.

She inspects her nails, cool as a cucumber. “And you’re S.H.I.E.L.D. Now that we’ve got that out of the way, what are we going to do about this?” She gestures to the space between their guns.

What he really wants to do is fuck her brains out, because as hot as she’d been last night, this is hotter. What he should do, however, is take her into custody, take whatever information he can get, and let the Ops division deal with her and her people. He’s at a standstill, so Fitz does what he does best: he goes for both.

“Drop your weapon. We’ll sort this out on the way to S.H.I.E.L.D. I take you and your friends for questioning. You’ll get out of it, I know you will. All I want is the information on the Lost Longitude Project.”

“Is that really _all_ you want, Agent Fitz?” The front of his trousers becomes a bit tighter just hearing her say his name like that, with a low, sultry tone similar to what he’d heard last night, but different now. With a bit of an edge. And definitely sexier, though he hadn’t thought that was possible. She’s playing him, he knows that. And he finds that he’s okay with it.

He steps in closer to her without lowering his gun or breaking eye contact. Two, after all, can play this game. “Depends. What else can you give me, Dr. Simmons?” he says with a smirk, wanting to tease, and he knows he’s succeeded when he sees her breath hitch.

She takes another step in, cocks her head to the side, her smirk matching his own. “What is it you want?” She knows exactly what he wants. She wants it too. And if things go her way, sooner or later, they’re both going to get it.

“Probably the same thing you do. And like I said, we’ll talk about the _terms_ on our way to S.H.I.E.L.D. Now drop. Your. Weapon.”

“I’ll drop mine if you drop yours.” One more step, and now they can’t get any closer without lowering the guns. They stand a moment, staring into each other’s eyes, each silently daring the other to move.

And then she surges forward and crashes their lips together, wrapping her arms around his neck.

He’s not a field agent. He hasn’t had a lot of chances to get out of the lab or his office, but he still knows full well that this is _not_ how field missions are supposed to go. His basic combat training never taught him how to react when a pretty target kisses you, so when she does, it takes him a moment of panic before leaning into the kiss, both of their guns dropping to the floor with twin _clunks_. _Fuck it_ , he thinks, _the bloody mission can wait._

It was initially half a distraction technique, half because she actually wanted to kiss him again, but Simmons finds herself lost in the kiss as soon as he kisses back, scruff rough against her cheek, and she’s even further gone when he adds tongue, moaning, her knees weak. She’s suddenly overwhelmed by the deep need to have him right where she’s still pleasantly sore from him the night before, and the need for it to happen goddamn _soon_ before she goes out of her mind.

She presses her body up against his and grins into his mouth when she feels him hard, poking into her stomach. She’s got him right where she wants him.

They’re already as close as they can get and every point of contact sends a wave of heat all over him, but he still wants more. More of her, more of them, more of whatever they’re doing now. She gasps softly as he presses a line of kisses down her neck, then back up, stopping to nip at her lobe before whispering “Where—”

“There’s a closet. Right behind you.” He doesn’t need to finish his question. She knows what he’s looking for, and she knows where they’re going. She’s known it since the moment she started kissing him. Hell, she’s known it from the moment she saw him, and her mind couldn’t help but devise a plan that involves that closed space and what they can do with it. After all, Jemma Simmons excels at preparation.

He nods and complies, grasping blindly behind him for the doorknob, not willing to break the kiss to turn and look. He finally finds it and twists it open before they head inside as one, her already pulling his tactical gear off and his hands running over her sides, scrambling to get under her shirt.

She fumbles for his belt but has to stop when his lips suddenly suck into the sensitive skin just below her ear, that very same spot that made her moan the previous night. “ _Fuck_.” He’s got a great memory, and he knows damn well how to use it to his advantage.

Hearing her swear makes him grin against her neck, mumbling a quick “Working on it...” before turning his attention back to her clothes.

He’s grateful that she’s not wearing the same sort of gear he is, or he thinks he’d go out of his mind in the effort to get her out of it. He pulls her blouse up over her head and places his hands on her breasts and she rips his belt off. She then nods at the rest of his outfit. “Off.” He rids himself of the tactical gear in a time that his combat training S.O. would never have believed possible.

She takes an instant to admire his body again, even though she’d just seen it last night, before shedding her own clothes and jumping on him, the two of them pressed against the wall for what really shouldn’t be _such_ a good shag, what with their supposed archnemesis status.

When S.H.I.E.L.D.’s backup team arrives, they’re both fully clothed and her hands are cuffed behind her back and they’ve silently resolved to pretend it never happened and that it will never happen again.

Of course, it does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Jess and I have been talking about this on Tumblr for a while now, and finally, here it is.
> 
> This came about after the 2x03 promo, and then we started discussing secret HYDRA/S.H.I.E.L.D. Fitzsimmons sex, and we weren't going to write it but it happened anyway and we love it and we're very excited about this fic, so we hope you like it :)
> 
> Oh, and every chapter will be titled with a lyric from 'Blank Space' by Taylor Swift.
> 
> -Cindy


	2. magic, madness, heaven, sin

“Dr. Fitz, sir?”  
  
Fitz doesn’t look up from his work, intent on transferring the design from his head to the paper. “I’m busy, Dr. Wells, what is it?”

“It’s just—sir, you asked to be notified whenever there was a new lead on HYDRA’s science director, and there’s a tip she killed—”

Before she finishes speaking, Fitz drops the pencil, the blueprints forgotten. _Jemma_ is the only thought running through his mind. _Jemma, Jemma, Jemma._ He rushes out of the room past Dr. Wells and throws on gear. He wishes he could put on less to make it easier, but that would look suspicious and he can’t have anyone knowing he’s sleeping with his supreme enemy.

When the team arrives at the location she’s reported to be at, he quickly scans the room of HYDRA agents for her. As soon as he makes eye contact with her, she raises an eyebrow and nods behind her for him to follow her before turning and heading down a hallway.

“I got her,” Fitz mumbles to his team as an afterthought as he runs after her, because he needs to say something. “No one follow me! Stay here!”

He reaches Simmons in a dark, secluded area of the building. “Oh good, you got my message,” she says, pushing off from the wall she’s leaning against and walking towards him.

He raises his eyebrows. “Murder isn’t a message.” He steps closer and pins her against the wall, hands on either side of her shoulders.

“Worked, didn’t it?”

They’re both breathing heavily now in anticipation, and Fitz kisses her hard. She melds to him instantly, their bodies instinctively coming closer together.

“Been a while,” he whispers against her skin as he kisses his way down her neck and nips gently on her shoulder.

She rolls her eyes, biting back a moan as she feels him biting down on her skin. “Fitz, it’s only been three days. And may I remind you that before I left for my last mission, we did it for _five days_. Five days straight, Fitz. I don’t know why you think three days is— oh _god_.” She tries to tease him further about being too needy and too clingy, but fails, her voice fading into a rather loud moan as he unzips her pants in one swift movement and strokes her through her knickers.

“Missed you, too.” He grins cockily and returns his attention to her neck.

Jemma is having none of it, however, and she grabs his face to slant her mouth against his. And then they’re kissing, hungrily, messily, and right in every way. Simmons might have been raised by a terrorist organization, but this, now, here is where she finally finds out what sin actually tastes like and god, does it taste so _good_.

It’s been like this between them since that first night—hungry, messy, reckless sex. In motel rooms, in closets, in dark warehouse corners, at every chance they get. They fuck like it doesn’t mean anything and they fuck like they mean it. They fuck good, and they fuck heedless of the danger. Heedless of everything wrong with it, with _them_. Heedless of everything else.

She grasps his bulletproof vest, scoffing silently at S.H.I.E.LD.’s ridiculous tactical gear, but then they hear footsteps coming rapidly from the building front.

"Goddammit. Every. _Time_ ," she groans, and hears Fitz mumble out a breathless _"mother of all..."_ before pulling back from her hold and tucking a stray hair behind her ear.

"Alright, we have to go. I'll call you tonight?" Jemma says, biting her lip. She watches him as he brings his hand to his nape and shifts nervously on his feet, and she knows what’s coming.

"I don't know, Jem. I don't— I don't think we should..."

She nods in understanding, but she knows he'll come, as he has been wont to do for the past couple of months. They sleep together. They agree to fake a standstill in the continuing chase between S.H.I.E.L.D. and HYDRA. He starts to doubt the set-up. They agree to never see each other again. She calls him. He comes.

Over and over, like clockwork.

She can’t really say that she understands why he keeps doing it. At least she gets to do her research without S.H.I.E.L.D. getting in her way, but he gets nothing but sex. She supposes that’s enough. Men, after all, are all the same.

“Okay, good luck.” She kisses him one last time and takes off running towards the inconspicuous exit door she saw a while ago.

Fitz, meanwhile, takes a few seconds to smooth out his hair and clothes, dropping to his knees on the floor and faking a series of pants just as his men arrive.

“She got away.”

* * *

Fitz _really_ meant to stay away this time, but at this point he has come to accept that saying no to Jemma Simmons is one of the very few things he can’t teach his genius brain to do. Which is why barely a few days after they agree to stop… whatever it is they’re doing, he finds himself staring in awe at how a postcoital Jemma can look both so hot and adorable at the same time.

He has also come to the conclusion that he likes this. He likes being able to make her breathless and dazed with a look of pure satisfaction. In his bed, no less. She looks so happy, and he can’t help but nuzzle her nose. “So,” he starts, “same time tomorrow?”

Jemma shakes her head. “Oh no, I can’t. I have a date.”

She wants to laugh at the horrified, panicked look on his face, but stops when she registers the sadness beneath it. So she smiles reassuringly instead and kisses him.

“Don’t worry, I won't sleep with him.”

“No?”

“No way! That’s _our_ thing, Fitz.” She grins cockily, seductively, and Fitz has to resist the urge to ravage her again. “No, this is just a date. It will lead to nothing, and he’ll probably be uninteresting anyway, and then I'll come here.”

Everything about her statement confuses him. She called it a thing. _Their_ thing. And he supposes it’s good enough, considering they’ve never talked about it anyway, so he tries to ignore the pang in his chest when he realizes that their “thing” is apparently just fucking exclusively. Then she immediately dismisses the idea of her date leading to something more, and it adds to his confusion.

“Then why go?”

She shrugs. “He asked me, and why not? It’ll keep up appearances, anyway.”

Fitz sighs. She’s right, and it’s not like they’re even technically _together_ , just hooking up constantly. He knows he should be grateful for it, because anything Jemma offers him is more than enough, and he is. But it doesn’t stop him from feeling hurt that she’d go on a date with another guy.

* * *

Simmons has been going out with other guys, and logic dictates that he should see other people as well. And he _could._ Probably.

He wants to prove it to himself, more than anyone else, so one day he asks a pretty biochemist under his division named Julie to dinner, making it a point to mention his date to Jemma, who initially made an odd expression but then smiled approvingly.  

Julie’s nice enough. She’s smart, and pretty, but he can’t help but think that Jemma's better. On his date with Julie, he thinks of Jemma the entire time, wonders what Jemma might order, what Jemma might say in response to what he says if she were the one sitting across from him. And he’s pretty sure he might have mentioned her a few too many times.

They’ve just finished placing their orders when he hears _her_ distinctive accent echo through the restaurant, asking if it would be possible to be seated at a table by the window. It takes him a second to register her presence, why she’s there, who she’s with (a tall, muscular mass of a guy whom Jemma would likely describe as “well-formed and symmetrical”), and another second to realize that there are only two tables by the window, one of which is currently occupied by him and a very confused Julie.

And then she’s there, walking towards them with Muscle Guy in tow, and seats across from him on the table beside theirs. She might have even winked at him. He’s not really sure. He’s too busy trying to take a hold of the situation and re-focus his attention on his date.

Julie is in the middle of telling him about… well, _something_ , when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. He knows what it is even before he bothers to look. He fishes out his phone and stares at the message for a moment, knowing full well that a single bad move would ruin everyone’s evening.

Jemma [08:16 PM]: There’s a storeroom at the end of the hallway to your right. Meet me in 5.

Fitz excuses himself and makes his way down the hall, trying to look for any sign of Jemma. He sees a door at the end of the corridor, as indicated, and pushes his way gingerly into the dark room.

“Jemma?” He whispers, and barely has a few seconds to fumble for a switch when he is suddenly greeted by a lithe body crashing into him, pressing his back against the cold concrete wall. He feels her lips— there is only one _her_ for him at this point—find their way to his neck then up, up, up to his jaw and he takes all of his willpower to push her gently away just before she reaches his mouth.  

“Jemma, wait, what are you doing?”

“Kissing you.”

The lack of light in the room allows him to make out only the vague contours of her face, but he knows her well enough to see the sureness in her eyes as she says it, even in the dark.

“Sorry, I, uh— you— we both have a date.”

“So? It’s just a date, Fitz. He’s— he’s nothing.”

 _He’s nothing_. It’s a dismissal of her date, and it’s supposed to reassure him, but it strikes Fitz like a heavy slap in the face. He has just spent most of his night trying to ignore the pangs of jealousy for some random muscled guy who got to hold her hand and open doors for her and get _at least_ some form of a definite label, and she’s dismissing him as nothing.

“And I… am I any different?” he says softly, suddenly thankful that she can’t see his face and what he’s really saying. _Am I even anything?_

Her silence echoes the exact confirmation he expected, and he clears his throat, prying her hand away from where it’s still gripping the back of his neck.

“I have to go back,” he says, then weakly adds, “just text me when you need me.” Because he’s too hurt to stay with her at the moment, but too selfish to actually let her go.

Taken aback, all Jemma can do is stare after him as he exits the closet. She doesn’t know what to do next, so she smooths out her dress, waits a few seconds, and follows him back to their double date. Back to her nothing.

He feels her eyes trail after him as he leaves, trying to pull him back, like she always does. But for once, he resists.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaad after 73 years, we're back. Sorry for the very late update! Much of the latter part of this fic has already been written, but we're still figuring out how to get to that, so please bear with us (oh also, we're both participating in the FS Secret Valentine exchange, so we're focusing on that first). 
> 
> We're so glad people seemed to like the first chapter though. Thank you to everyone who read! :)
> 
> -Jess


	3. so hey, let's be friends

Jemma Simmons was raised by HYDRA. While other children played with toys and make-believe, she grew up with death and destruction and science, and often the combination of all three. It’s practically a part of her, now. Death. She knows it like the back of her hand. Like a simple equation. Like the numbers and formulas constantly swimming in her head. Like she’s built to live and breathe it. Death.

Now, however, things are different. Even death. Everything around her has become a blur, and she hates it. She shouldn’t care that Cillian is dead. She hardly knew the guy, and he was expendable and an idiot, just an agent on her team. People on her team she’s known better than him have died before and she had never once cared, because that was a weakness she couldn’t afford.

She knows the one thing that always makes her feel better, the one thing in her life that feels right at the moment: Fitz.

So she storms his apartment, confused and needy and determined, even after weeks of not seeing him after that disastrous encounter at the restaurant. Fitz looks shocked to see her there, but happy, and she doesn’t waste a second before quickly saying “hi” as she kisses him hard before the door’s even shut. Fitz draws back and shuts the door, and she gives him a look clearly stating that she needs him. This. Now.

It’s been two weeks since the date incident, the longest he’s gone without seeing Jemma, and for the first time since meeting the brown-eyed, fire-hearted girl in some obscure bar months ago, Fitz has begun entertaining the thought that he could forget her. Or at least try to.

And he could ignore her, he could push her away and tell her to leave and never come back. He could tell her that he’s not some toy she can keep playing with whenever she likes. He _could_ do that; and he _would_ , but she’s kissing him with a kind of desperation he’s never felt from her before. Like she needs him — not just his body, but _him_. Like she needs him and means it. Like she needs him in a way he _knows_ she’s never needed anybody (or anything) else before.

He knows something is wrong.

She tries to kiss him again, but he stops her. Shocked, she draws away, trying to escape his embrace, but he holds her tight and looks into her eyes. “Jemma.” She turns away. “Jemma, look at me. Please. Are you okay? Is everything all right?”

His voice is tender and soft and his eyes are concerned, searching her face for any sign of emotion, and it hits her like a punch in the gut.

“Yeah, of course, why wouldn’t it be?”

“Jemma.”

“I’m...” She starts, then clears her throat when she feels the faintest trace of shakiness in her voice. “Our mission went wrong today and…one of my men...”

“Oh Jemma, I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t say that. It’s not your fault.”

“It’s not yours either.”

“I know. It’s just…I could have…never mind.” Jemma shakes her head and pulls Fitz by his shirt collar, moving to kiss him again. He kisses her back this time, but she can feel his hesitation.

“Fitz. Please,” she pleads against his lips. He’s never been this careful with her before, and it frustrates her. Jemma Simmons is a lot of things, but she’s not vulnerable, and his touch, his caution, the way he holds her like she’s going to fall apart—he makes her feel like she is. And _careful_ is not what she needs from him right now. She wants wild animal sex to give her some pleasure as a distraction to block out the emotions.

Unfortunately for her, the odds of that aren’t looking good.

Fitz gently takes her hand and then uses his other one to brush her bangs back from her face and kiss her forehead. “Jemma, if you want to, we can do this,” he says softly. “But I don’t think it’s really what you need right now.”

“No, this is what I need. I need… you don’t understand...” Simmons closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, willing herself to gain control and for her emotions to just stop.

A tear escapes her eye despite her best efforts, and she wipes it off with force. The last thing she wants is for Fitz to see her crying—he’s already acting like she’s made of glass, and that would only make it worse.

But he notices. Of course he does. And he wraps his arms around her and pulls her close and doesn’t say anything, and it’s with that act that she loses control completely. And for the first time in her memory, she’s sobbing. Fully sobbing, with tears and a runny nose and heaving sobs and gasps racking her body. She hates it, hates the way she feels because of it, but she can’t stop herself. She brings her hands up and curls them against Fitz’s chest, clutching onto him for dear life.

“I’m sorry, I—I’ll stop—you don’t have to—”

“Jemma, shh, it’s okay,” he whispers into her hair.

“No it’s not. I shouldn’t be—I shouldn’t be doing this, Fitz, I’m _sorry_.” And with that, she starts bawling even harder.

“It’s perfectly okay to cry, Jemma. One of your men died and it’s okay to mourn and grieve and feel sorry for the loss.”

“Are you saying I’m _weak_?” There’s an edge to her voice, hurt that he’s accusing her of such a terrible sin.

He strokes her hair. “No. I’m saying you’re human.”

There’s a beat, and then, “Isn’t that the same thing?” she whispers against his now-damp shirt, softly, so softly, and she hates herself for sounding so frail.

“No. No it’s not,” Fitz says, dropping another kiss onto her forehead before bracing her face with his two hands, urging her to look at him.

“Jemma, you are the strongest person I’ve ever met. And this? What you’re feeling now? This only proves that you’re exactly that: a person. A person who hurts and _feels_. You care so much, Jemma. You can try to hide it as much as you want, but I know you do. And that makes you even stronger,” he says, wiping her tears with his thumbs.

“I don’t…it’s just…Never…I’ve never—” _Never felt so human. So very real._ “I’ve never done this before, you know? I’m sorry you had to see this,” Jemma says, trying to force a chuckle.

He gives her a tender smile. “I guess there’s a first time for everything.” And he’s glad to be there for it, really. He’s just glad to be there for her.

She laughs at that. She laughs through her tears, and Fitz thinks it’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen. A few seconds pass, however, and her chuckles turn into a yawn.

“You need to rest, Jem,” Fitz says. “You could… um, stay for the night? Maybe? If you want? I mean you obviously don’t _need_ —”

“Fitz. I’ll stay. Thank you.”

“Okay. Alright. Good. I mean— yeah. Come on.” He leads her to the bedroom and quickly clears his bed of the clothes and blueprints lying around. “Here. Um. Okay. Good night.”

Jemma crawls into the bed, brows furrowing when she sees him move away. “Where are you going?”

“Sleeping?”

“Where?”

“On the couch?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No?”

She rolls her eyes. “Fitz, this is ridiculous. We’ve slept together in this bed who knows how many times now.”

“Yeah. Um. I guess,” Fitz answers, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. Just because they’ve been having sex doesn’t mean she’ll want to cuddle with him.

“Fitz, come here. Please?” Jemma says, and Fitz sighs, crawling onto her side and securing the blanket tightly over the two of them.

She snuggles up to him, and it surprises her, how easy everything feels. Crying into his chest, letting down the walls she’s struggled to put up for so many years, clinging onto him and still feeling strong despite it.

“Thank you, Fitz.”

“'Hey, it’s no problem. The bed’s more than big enough for the two of us.”

“No, I mean for…this. For everything. You’re my first real friend, you know? No one’s done this for me before.”

“I’m…you’re welcome.”

“You’re my best friend in the world.”

“Yeah? Okay. I mean…uh, you’re mine too?”

“Oh silly Fitz, you don’t have to say it back. But, thanks.” She laughs softly then bites her lip, tracing random swirls on his chest while debating on whether to air her thoughts. “Hey, want to hear a secret?”

“Go on.”

“I almost went to the Academy.”

“The Academy?”

“Yes. Your Academy. S.H.I.E.L.D. As you know, HYDRA operated in secret for decades, planting people in the most important organizations. I was…even as a teenager, I was their most valued scientist. The best. Two PhDs at 17, with an insatiable curiosity for the unknown and unwavering loyalty for HYDRA.”

“And science.”

She grins. “And science, yes. So anyway, I was the perfect candidate to get into S.H.I.E.L.D. Go deep undercover. Become a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, work for Sci-Ops, maybe go into the field.”

“What happened?”

“Well…let’s just say I’m not exactly the best liar. I failed my field assessments, so they kept me in the secret ops.”

“Wait, seventeen? You don’t mean—Jemma, what year was that?”

“2004, why?”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“We would have been in the same batch.”

She looks up at him then, eyes widening with the realization. “Huh.”

“We would have been classmates, Jem. Maybe even partners.” _Friends. Best friends. More than that. Always more than that._

She scoffs lightly. “And then what? I would have left you anyway when HYDRA came into the light. Thrown you out of a plane or something.”

“I’m…yeah, maybe you’re right. Never mind,” he says weakly, burying his face in her hair in an attempt to hide his flushed cheeks.

“Oh, Fitz.” She snuggles closer into his side and tilts her head to look up at him. “I’m glad it happened like this. It’s better this way.”

He grins stupidly at her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You already know who I am. I don’t have to betray you.” _I’m not even sure I could._ “And you don’t have to trust me.”

Fitz presses his lips against her hair, breathing out a barely audible “But I do,” then holding her tighter against his chest. “Go to sleep, Jem. I’m not going to leave.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: this chapter was written from scratch, instead of having part of it already done like many scenes are, and we wrote it in approximately 12 hours.
> 
> But yay to Fitzsimmons becoming friends!
> 
> -Cindy


	4. look at that face, you look like my next mistake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There's a mention of implied drunk sex at the beginning, but the actual act isn't described.

_Six months ago_

She was _bored_. If there was a statement that would describe her life prior to last night, it would be that she was bored, simple as that. Contrary to popular opinion, working for an evil terrorist organization isn’t exactly as thrilling as it sounds, and Jemma Simmons lives for the thrill of life. Which was why last night after a shitty day at work, she found herself in some unknown bar in an unfamiliar city, all alone and grudgingly sipping at the bartender’s horrible attempt at a martini. Because she was bored.

That, and she desperately needed to get laid.

So when a cute blue-eyed guy with a rough accent remarked on how she looked like she could murder someone (which she found grimly hilarious because she _had_ , in fact, murdered someone earlier that day. By accident. And for science. But whatever.), she turned up her charm and ended up having sex with said cute guy and eventually falling asleep here. As to where “here” is exactly, she doesn’t really know. What she knows is that her head hurts like hell and she’s still kind of sore between her thighs and god, she really needs to stop fucking up her mess of a life.

Jemma opens her eyes, meeting a pair of equally confused blue ones for a moment. He’s cute. He’s really cute. And judging by how her muscles are still burning in all the places that haven’t been used in quite a while, he’s also a great fucker. Cute and good in bed. The perfect combination. If only she was one for that mushy relationship stuff.

“Oh, you’re hot,” she says, and nods appreciatively before falling right back asleep.

Fitz blinks at the naked figure next to him. _What the hell?_ A hookup wasn’t exactly what he had planned when he dragged himself to the bar last night. He was tired, that was all. He lost another one of his men on a mission against HYDRA’s new and now apparently invincible science division, and he was simply tired of losing to the bad guys. Until he saw this pretty girl who looked as done with life as he was, and he couldn’t help but strike up a conversation. A conversation, which led to a kiss, which led to a fuck (a _really_ good fuck, that much he remembers), which led to here, now, lying in his own bed with a beautiful stranger and feeling very, very confused.

He is also very late. The girl, Jemma, however, has decided to go back to sleep with her head pillowed on his chest, and he has to gently shove her away to get off the bed. “Um. Hey.” He pokes her arm. “Hey, um, excuse me I need to—” Another poke. (Her skin is really soft.) “—get up now.”

“Umf.” She grunts, rolling over so he could move. “Okay. Goodbye. Have a nice day.”

“Oh. Oh, no. This is, uh... my place, actually. But you can stay. If you want.”

She’s still pretty much half-asleep but she laughs mockingly at his suggestion, wincing as her head hurts in the process, because _staying_ is just not something Jemma Simmons does.

“Do you want some coffee?” he asks sheepishly and she nods. He puts on his boxers and walks over to the kitchen, leaving her blatantly staring at his body. She keeps her eyes trailed after him, nodding appreciatively as she silently examines his back muscles—not too defined, but sculpted with a boyish curve— and his perfectly round ass.

He starts brewing a pot of coffee for them, and after a minute she emerges from the bedroom, fully-clothed. “Actually, I have to go,” she says, heading quickly towards the door.

Fitz blinks at her in surprise. “You sure? You don’t want the coffee or breakfast or...anything?”

She shakes her head. She does want the coffee, but taking the coffee would mean staying longer than necessary, so she’ll get one on her way to work.

“Okay, um,” Fitz starts, rocking shyly on the balls of his feet and running his hand through his messy hair. How does one even communicate after sleeping with a stranger? Casual sex isn’t really his thing, and it’s not like he’s done enough of this to know the proper etiquette. “This was, um…fun? Last night, I mean. With the—you know…the, uh...” He flaps his hands aimlessly in the space between them. This is bad. This is a disaster. He’s going to muck it up. “We could do it again, maybe? If you want? If you… um… me… sex...” _Shut your mouth, Leopold. You shut it right now._ “I mean, not just that obviously, but maybe coffee? Dinner?” _More sex?_

Jemma freezes. Oh, no. He’s one of _those_ guys. The kind who aren’t satisfied with just a one-night stand and want something more out of it. She hates having to deal with this kind of guy, because it’s annoying to tell them she doesn’t want a relationship.

“Oh, uh, I’m sorry, I’m not really looking for a relationship right now.” _Or ever._ “But it was fun though!” And that’s actually not a lie. She had enjoyed herself immensely. But that just meant he was a particularly memorable fuck, not that she could ever do it again.

“Oh. Okay, then. Great. That’s good. Good for you. Thanks. Congrats.” _Congrats?_ _Leopold, just. Stop. Talking._

She nods. “I should—I should go. Yeah. Thanks!” She quickly darts out the door and hurries down to the nearest Starbucks before she finds her way to work.

Fitz sits down and sighs. He’d mucked it up. He’d gone and mucked the whole thing up by being an idiot. It was no wonder she hadn’t taken him up on his offer of _um, sex?_ and gotten out while she could. He couldn’t blame her for that.

* * *

_Present day_

Fitz blinks blearily to ward off the sleep in his eyes. They immediately land on Jemma, whose head is so close to his their foreheads are touching. She’s curled up against him, tangled up in him, one leg stretched out from her curl and between his and one hand loosely clutching his shirt, and his arms are wrapped around her.

He can’t help but think how stunningly gorgeous she is, and how this is the greatest sight to wake up to in the world. Days he wakes up with Jemma are always his best days, and nights with Jemma are always his best nights, for sleeping and otherwise. They’ve done more of that in past weeks since the night she broke down crying: sleeping together without sleeping _together_ , and he thinks he actually enjoys it more than just fucking on whatever surface they can find.

Jemma starts to stir, and his heart sinks a little because now that she’s awake, it means she’s going to leave, like she always does, and he always hates to see her go. Just once he’d like her to stay, to spend a morning with her, but he’s painfully aware that Jemma doesn’t do that.

“Morning,” he says quietly when she opens her eyes to meet his, voice raspy from sleep, and he presses a quick kiss against her lips, leaving their faces that close, even closer than before. In response, Jemma closes her eyes again, makes a soft, contented _mmm_ noise and repositions herself, stretching out her limbs and pressing herself against him, each of them on their sides.

“I should go,” she murmurs, clearly still half-asleep. She doesn’t really need to, as it’s a Saturday, but she has long since conditioned herself to leave as quickly as possible upon waking up in another bed.

Fitz nods slowly once, moving his head as little as possible.

“But I want to stay,” she continues, and Fitz’s heart leaps. After a moment in which Jemma shows no signs of movement, Fitz allows himself to believe she might stick around this morning, and he tightens his arms around Jemma, wanting her as close as possible. Shutting his eyes, he starts rubbing small circles into her back.

He doesn’t know how long they stay like that, completely content cuddled together, while he gathers up the courage to ask her something. “Jem?”

“Mm?”

“Would you...would you like to maybe...d’you want to go out to breakfast?”

Her eyes open then, and her mouth does too, ready to decline, but then she sees his face, so nervous and cute (and the nervousness itself is cute, too, she thinks), and she finds herself nodding despite herself.

His face absolutely lights up, relief and elation in his expression at once, and he’s just so _happy_ she can’t help but smile back.

“But first…” Jemma kisses him and moves her legs to straddle his lap.

They go out for “breakfast” at noon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day (for my timezone, at least)??? This is truly a miracle. Must celebrate. *pops champagne*
> 
> -Jess


	5. stolen kisses, pretty lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place immediately after the last chapter.

Roughly three hours after they wake up, Fitz and Simmons finally venture out of the flat for brunch. They argue for a moment, with Fitz insisting that they go to IHOP and Jemma letting out a long string of frustrated groans because _pancakes barely have any nutrients, Fitz._ He only agrees to go to a place with “diverse offerings of adequate nutritional value” when Jemma promises to buy him dessert.

It’s not far into the meal, however, when Jemma notices Fitz carefully picking out the chicken strips from his salad and stares at him in shock.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Um. I’m eating my salad?”

“No, you’re not. You’re eating the _chicken._ ”

“That’s what I said. I’m eating the chicken. Which is _in_ the salad.”

“And ignoring everything else? That is _not_ how you eat salad, Leopold.”

“Well that’s how I eat salad.” 

“Not anymore,” she says, taking the plate from him and forcefully drizzling some dressing onto it before shoving the plate back in front of him. “Eat your greens.” 

“Ugh, no.” 

“Ugh, yes! Leafy greens are rich with nutrients and phytochemicals that keep your body healthy. Seriously, I don’t understand how you even maintain your nice physique if you don’t eat vegetables.” 

He raises his eyebrows in shock. “I have a nice physique?” He tries to ignore the jump his heart does at that.

She looks at him like he’s crazy. “Of course you do. You think I’d sleep with you on a regular basis if I didn’t find you aesthetically pleasing? You’re very handsome. But you have to eat vegetables if you want to stay that way.” 

Fitz stares at her for a second before rapidly shoveling huge forkfuls of salad into his mouth. Jemma bursts out laughing and he pauses to smile at her, a piece of lettuce stuck to his tooth. “Anything for you,” he says around a mouthful of food. He’s aware that he probably looks like an idiot, but she’s laughing with a childlike chuckle he’s never heard from her before, so he doesn’t really mind. He thinks he quite likes it. Making her laugh. Making her forget, even just for a moment, that she’s supposed to be plotting world domination, or whatever is it they do at HYDRA. 

He tries to keep it up, tries to keep doing silly things to make her laugh even after they’ve left the restaurant and found themselves at the nearby park, just walking aimlessly and talking. 

At one point Fitz stops at a street vendor and buys a corn dog, which Jemma argues against because _you just ate, Fitz, you can’t possibly be hungry already_.

“Hey, you promised me dessert!”

“And you got three plates of it.”

“Which is _obviously_ not enough. So, corn dog.”

“Ugh, Fitz!” she exclaims, throwing her hands up in annoyance then settling them at the back of her neck. _She looks so cute_ , Fitz thinks as he watches her pout her plump lips at his stupidity; and suddenly he feels an irresistible urge to kiss her. 

So he does. 

It’s supposed to be chaste, just a playful brush of the lips. But his fingers find their way through her hair and she tilts her head just right and suddenly it’s nothing like all the other kisses they’ve shared. Every kiss before has been frantic, urgent, heated with a kind of desire that almost burned them up. But now, now she’s leaning up on her toes and sighing gently against his mouth. Now his tongue is making sweet, gentle promises across her lips, prying her mouth open with a carefulness that’s very uncharacteristic of _them_. Now they’re taking their time. Now they’re still burning, but instead of a ravaging fire, it’s the slow sparking of a flame that sets each of their bones ablaze. Now it’s giggles and sighs and wandering hands and a constant wave of lips and tongues that keep on finding each other; and if they’re being honest, this kiss is some kind of perfect. 

They pull apart and rest their foreheads together and smile and giggle softly, and Fitz intertwines their fingers together. Then Jemma’s face falls without warning and she brings her head up, wide-eyed. “Oh, no, Fitz, we’re in public!”

“Yeah, we have been all day.” 

“What if someone saw us? What if S.H.I.E.L.D. or HYDRA finds out about us because of this? Oh, Fitz, was this a bad idea?”

He kisses her again and she melts into it, and he rubs his hands up and down her arms in an attempt to soothe her and he can feel her calm down and loosen up. “Does that feel like a bad idea?” he whispers. “We’ll be fine, Jemma. Don’t worry.” 

She smiles, and they stay still for a moment, noses brushing against each other and lips hovering at a teasing distance. Almost meeting but not quite, yet ever certain in their presence. Until the corn dog vendor speaks up and they jump apart in surprise. 

“So how long have you lovebirds been together?”

They both freeze at the question. 

“To- um, together?” Fitz asks, the word tasting so foreign in his mouth, and he winces at the sudden realization of how much he wants it, this foreign word, this one thing they have agreed not to be.

“How long have you been dating?”

“Oh! We’re not - I mean, we’re, um… Jemma?” Fitz stammers, blushing furiously and looking too hesitant for Jemma’s liking. They both know they’re not dating, and it should be a simple thing to explain. The fact that he’s even asking her brings some of her worries to light. She might have to sit him down for “The Talk” later.

Jemma shoots him a stern look, then takes a deep breath. This is _exactly_ what she has been fearing. But she’s Jemma Simmons, and she has to set it right. 

“Oh no, sir, I’m afraid you got it wrong,” she says, flashing her best smile at the old man and trying really hard to be polite and forthright at the same time. “We’re just friends who have sexual intercourse from time to time.” 

They walk away from the confused corn dog vendor, their hands still clasped together. 

They’re relatively silent until they arrive outside Jemma’s apartment building when it's almost dark, and then she speaks up. “Fitz?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Do you...do you fancy me?” 

Fitz freezes. “I, um, uh, what do you mean? I mean of course I like you a little, you’re very hot, you know.” He chokes out a forced laugh. “But no, no, I don’t fancy you, why would you ever think that?” He rubs the back of his neck with the hand not holding hers.

Here is what he should have said: He should have said yes. He should have told her how much he wants to hold her hand and stroll in parks and argue with her about his food choices, how he’d probably re-consider his opinion on salad if it meant he got to see her smile. He should have told her about the odd feeling in his chest when she says his name, how the name he’s always hated somehow sounds so right and sacred when it rolls off her tongue. He should have told her of all the time he’s spent thinking of a future with her, and how much more he’d be willing to spend just to prove that he’s worth it. He should have told her that “fancy” is too weak a term for how he feels: too much but never enough. He should have told her he is falling in love. (Because it’s the truth.) But it’s also everything she’s begging not to hear, so he swallows it all and tells a little white lie instead. (Because that’s how he gets to keep her.) 

So he says what he says, and she smiles at him and squeezes his hand. “Good. Because you do know this is just a casual thing, right Fitz?”

“Yeah. Yeah, ’course I do.” 

“Because I don’t want to let you down by having you expect something I just can’t give. This is it. This...is more than I’ve ever given anyone, actually.” 

“Jemma.” He stops and turns to look her directly in the eye. “Jemma, anything you can give is more than I could ever ask for. Thank you.” And so he kisses her again, long, lazy, and sweet, the two of them simply enjoying the feel of each other’s mouths. 

“Fitz,” Jemma says after they pull apart, biting her lower lip and putting on her best suggestive look. “Do you want to come up?" 

“Oh. I should, uh, I should probably head back now, actually.” 

Jemma has been trained her entire life to hide her emotions, but no matter how hard she tries, she can’t keep the disappointment off of her face. Still, she does her best, and smiles encouragingly at him. “Oh, yeah. Yes, I suppose it is getting rather late, isn’t it?” 

“I’m so sorry. I’d love to, really, I just—” 

“No, no, I understand.” 

He kisses her one last time for the night, the longest one of the day, and he wishes he could live in this moment forever, this instant where they’re not S.H.I.E.L.D. and HYDRA, not enemies, not Leopold Fitz and Jemma Simmons, but two people who are kissing at the end of their date. (He’s choosing to call it a date. But only in his head.) 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” he whispers against her lips. “And I’ll text you first thing tomorrow morning like always.” He wasn’t even sure how that had started, but each morning, they exchanged a _good morning_ and texted continuously throughout the day, only stopping if they were in the same room. 

“Yeah. See you tomorrow.” She starts up the steps to her building, knowing he’s going to stand waiting until she’s inside, then turns around at the top. “Fitz?” 

“Yeah?”

“I had fun today.” 

“Yeah, me too.”

“I would never have done something like that without you. And it was only fun because of you. And...thank you.” 

“Anytime, Jem.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean... _corn dogs_. 
> 
> Big things are coming soon!


	6. ain't it funny, rumors fly

The following Monday, Fitz returns to work determined to keep his mind off of Jemma. It works for some time, as tinkering with his ongoing projects distracts him from everything else. However, just a little after lunch, he receives word that S.H.I.E.L.D. Director Phil Coulson has arrived in their department, asking to talk to him personally. Fitz is still wondering why the director needs him so urgently when Director Coulson walks into his office.

“Agent Fitz, we’ve received new intel on HYDRA’s science director. How’s the analysis of her projects coming along?”

Fitz turns away from his computer. “Uh, good, sir, very good.” Which he scrunches up his face at, because he sounded a bit too enthusiastic and the last thing he wants is for Jemma to actually be attacked. S.H.I.E.L.D. obviously has far more pressing evils to battle, but Jemma’s division has been rising up as such a powerful player in HYDRA’s operations that Coulson has personally designated Fitz to analyze their “insider intel” on her and identify potential weaknesses they could use to take her down.

For a brief moment, he thinks he sees Coulson’s ‘I am not here for your bullshit’ face, and he ponders whether it’s mathematically possible to just take off right then and outrun S.H.I.E.L.D. security. The Director has always been able to see right through him. A second passes, however, and Coulson’s face relaxes to a less tense expression (at least by Coulson standards). Fitz lets out a sigh of relief. He’s never been a good runner, anyway.

“Great. I’d like you to work with Skye again to see if you can get it done quicker.”

“Of course, sir.” His mouth has gone dry. Skye, while his best friend other than Jemma, is the best hacker/computer geek he knows, and there’s no way she wouldn’t be able to find something on Jemma. With Fitz’s luck, she’d find surveillance footage of them kissing. He suddenly wonders why he ever thought their day out was a good idea.

“I know I don’t have to tell you how important this is, Fitz, and I have faith in your dedication to S.H.I.E.L.D; but please, don’t let yourself get distracted. This person is extremely dangerous. We’ve lost many of our men under her leadership, some of them your colleagues. I hope you remember that.”

Fitz looks up until he meets the older man’s eyes, and he can’t help but think back to all those years ago, when a shy teenage boy from a small town in Glasgow fell in love with the ideals of protection and compassion, ideals that have always secured his loyalty to S.H.I.E.L.D. and to the man who brought him out of isolation and gave him a chance to be brave. He suddenly feels sick to his stomach, realizing just how much he’s changed over the past year and knowing for certain that one of these days, something would snap and he would inevitably let Coulson down.

“Yes, sir,” he finally says with as much sincerity as he could muster, willing his voice not to shake. 

Later in the day, he sits next to Skye, who’s already begun the program to search for signs of Jemma’s possible weak points, and tries desperately to think of plans to deter her.

He grins, a bit too wide and a bit too creepy and fake, and says as casually as he can, “So Skye, have I told you about my girlfriend?”

Skye tears her attention away from her computer immediately. “ _You?_ Have a _girlfriend_?”

“Oi, don’t sound so surprised!”

“No, I’m just surprised that you actually talked to a girl. When we first met you hardly talked to me and I found out later that was you trying to _flirt_.”

“Well, I do. Have a girlfriend, that is,” he says indignantly. “It’s been a year.”

Skye hits him on the arm. “A _year?_ You’ve been going out with this girl for a year and you never told me? Leopold Fitz, you little shit. So come on, tell me about her!”

“She’s…” He pauses. “She’s a scientist too. Absolutely bloody brilliant, I could listen to her talk and watch her get excited about it all day. And beautiful, Skye, I wish you could see her. Most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. I, uh—besides you, of course!”

“Nice save,” Skye told him dryly. “No, I think it’s sweet that you think that about her. Keep going.”

“She loves salad and she hates ham, and she likes action movies and hates rom-coms and above all she loves science.”

He stops when he realizes Skye is staring at him, open-mouthed. “Holy shit, Fitz, you are _totally_ in love with this girl. You’ve been gazing off into the distance with a stupid-idiot-in-love smile the whole time you talked about her like a stupid idiot in love.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Yeah, I am.”

“So why am I only hearing about her now?” Skye asks, raising one of her eyebrows.

“Because Jemma...” Fitz freezes, silently cursing himself for letting her name slip. It’s out there now, though, and there is simply no way that Skye would let this one go. So he clears his throat and prays to every divine being that he’ll get away with it. “...Simmons. Um, we should be focusing on her? For the, uh, analysis. Yes. That’s right.”

“Ugh, Leopold. You’re no fun.” Skye replies, rolling her eyes. He tries to discreetly let out a sigh of relief and then he ponders the fact that the name he loathes so much can sound so wonderful, almost like a prayer, something holy and sacred, coming from Jemma’s lips, but when it came from Skye’s it sounded like nails on a chalkboard again.

“Wait. Simmons. Simmons… Jemma Simmons...” Skye mumbles thoughtfully after a minute.

“Yeah, that’s her name. HYDRA’s Science Head, I mean. Why?”

“It’s just… that name. I’ve been going through the database of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents that disappeared inexplicably during the 80’s, and I’m pretty sure I’ve seen that last name in there.”

“Well it is quite a common last name.”

“Yes but, I don’t know… I have this feeling that they might be connected.” She sits up straighter and minimizes the hunt for Jemma into a corner and pulls up a file archive.

Within seconds, she has what she’s looking for: the records for Rory and Katherine Simmons.

She skims down. “There it is. They had a daughter, one year old when they disappeared. Jemma Simmons.”

Fitz nearly shoves Skye out of the way in his haste to get to the computer screen, ignoring her protests. He goes through the file, and reads it again, and then again for a third time, just to be sure he’s not hallucinating.

_Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [dramatic DUN-DUN-DUN] Oh no, Jemma's parents!
> 
> So finally, here are some other team members making their debut! No Jemma this chapter, but don't worry, she's off plotting world domination somewhere.
> 
> -Cindy


	7. boys only want love if it's torture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we are back. (Again.) And again, sorry for the very late update. It's been a busy couple of months for both of us. I can't promise regular updates from this point on, but I can promise that we _will_ finish this thing. At some point. One way or another. Eventually. *wink wink*
> 
> Thanks to everyone still reading this!!!!! All two of you!!!! Haha jk. But seriously. This fic still has a long way to go, and we're very excited to share the rest with you. :)

“Shit.” Fitz hisses as he drops the soldering iron with a loud thud against the metal table. He then plops himself down on the nearest chair, running his hands through his hair and leaning back to roll the chair away from the workbench. It’s stupid. It’s ridiculous. He’s been trying (pretending) to work for more than an hour but has not accomplished anything significant.

It’s been a couple of weeks since he last saw Jemma. His discovery of her parents’ past, coupled with the numbing feeling of guilt that hits him every time he puts on his S.H.I.E.L.D. lanyard in the morning, has left him confused about his choices. Which is why his temporary transfer to a covert lab facility just a few kilometers from HQ came as a relief. If he’s being honest, it’s a welcome break from all his Jemma-related woes and a chance to clear his mind, and hopefully, his priorities. But this morning somehow feels particularly distracting. Like something is off.

His intuition is proven right when a shot suddenly rings out and smashes something behind him. “What the—”

Fitz ducks under the table in panic as armed men - who are quite obviously HYDRA agents, judging from the ridiculously bright red logo stamped onto their vests - and S.H.I.E.L.D. agents alike burst into the facility and start shooting at each other. It takes a moment to register that the lab is under attack, and Fitz fumbles for the nearby D.W.A.R.F. controller as slowly and silently as he can. The drones were not built as defense weapons but luckily, Coulson insisted on incorporating emergency firing chambers when he approved the design.

He selects Happy and presses a button to make the drone slowly rise up and start shooting experimental neurotoxin bullets blindly—Fitz has no idea where the agents are, or which team they’re on, but he can hear them when they go down.

And then he hears it, sure and commanding with the slightest English lilt:

“Search the place! And don’t let any S.H.I.E.L.D agent escape.”

Fitz freezes at the sound of _that_ voice and lowers the drone on instinct. _Jemma_. Jemma’s here. Oh shit, Jemma’s here. Why does Jemma, of all people, of all of the agents HYDRA has to send, have to be here?

He pops his head out from behind the box he’s hiding behind to see her. Oh, god, she was so fucking _hot_ in command like that. He glances downwards and silently curses his dick for being interested at the worst possible moment.

But all thoughts of Jemma and his growing interest are left forgotten when Fitz catches sight of the lone S.H.I.E.L.D. agent positioned up high with a sniper rifle, pointing his gun directly at Jemma, and with her back to the sniper and her attention elsewhere, he’ll make his shot.

He doesn’t think. He just reacts. He runs out in front of her just as the agent takes his shot, pushing her out of the way.

She stares at him in shock a second before quickly firing a shot up at the agent who tried to shoot her. And then he runs away, out of the lab, away from her. He doesn’t know where he’s going, but he knows he can’t be there. 

He remembers Coulson from several years ago, leaning against the bar of a small pub in Glasgow, telling a seventeen-year-old Fitz:   _It’s your choices that make you who you are, Fitz._ That was the day he chose to be brave by joining S.H.I.E.L.D. And for almost a decade, he’d always thought that was the moment that defined who he was. But today he made a different choice. Today he chose to brave when he stopped ignoring the simple fact that he is in love with Jemma Simmons.

* * *

A few hours later, Jemma shows up at Fitz’s flat, shoving his shoulders as soon as he opens the door. “What the _fuck_ Leo?” she cries, entering the flat and shutting the door behind her.

“He was gonna kill you!”

“So? That doesn’t mean you risk your life for the _enemy!_  We agreed not to let this affect our work, Fitz, and if you can’t do that—”

“It’s not—”

“You don’t need to protect me, and what if S.H.I.E.L.D. finds out? They could go after you! You could be fired!” Her voice has raised to a yell, and she’s breathing heavily, her eyes panicked.

“Well maybe I don’t care about losing my job,” Fitz says, voice low and steady, taking one long, deep breath in and out. “Maybe I care about losing _you._ ”

Jemma opens her mouth. Closes it again. They’re both quiet, the silence a huge switch from the angry loudness of a few moments ago.

She doesn’t know what to do, and she’s terrified. 

So she kisses him.

There’s no real tact to this particular kiss; she simply launches herself at him and attaches onto his lips, and he instinctively wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her closer, breathing her in. He wants her as close as possible, safe and sound, where there’s no S.H.I.E.L.D. and HYDRA, just Fitz and Simmons.

She breaks the kiss then brushes her nose against his. “You’re a bloody idiot, Leopold Fitz.”

“I know,” he says, giving her _that_ look again, that one that makes her feel like he thinks she’s the most important person ever created, like she’s the sun he revolves around. The one that makes her feel warm from her head to her toes, comforted, and loved.

“And I hate you,” she whispers against his mouth, lips shaking as she tries to stop her tears from falling.

He swipes his thumb across her wet cheek then presses tiny kisses to the same spot.

“I know, Jemma. I know.”

They move to his bedroom and fall together onto the bed, and Fitz knows that this is the closest he’ll ever get to being able to tell her he loves her.


	8. you can tell me when it's over (if the high was worth the pain)

Jemma closes her eyes and sighs contentedly, completely blissful and basking in the afterglow of her orgasm while Fitz cleans up and checks the fridge.

If you asked Jemma Simmons a year ago what it was like to sleep with the enemy, she would have said that it was deliciously wrong and right in every way, and actually a bit thrilling. That was always the plan. She went home with the boy with bright blue eyes and a surprising sense of softness to have some fun. And she most definitely got it. But it was never meant to be like the way they came together—or god, _made love_ —just now. It was never meant to be slow and gentle and good. It was never meant to be all sighs and long, drawn-out moans and almost feather-like brushes of calloused fingers across her body.

It wasn’t meant to make her feel.

Fitz comes back into the bed and she immediately and instinctively curls into him, laying her head on his chest.

“So,” he nuzzles her nose, “you up for round two?”

She opens her eyes and looks down. “Sure, but you’re not.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t start with you.”

She rolls her eyes with a hint of a smile, a gesture Fitz knows to be a sign of affection, and moves off him and opens her legs.

Fitz tenderly kisses the inside of her thigh. He trails his kisses upwards, stopping just below where she wants, and sucks on her skin with the gentlest amount of pressure.

“A thigh hickey?” she asks with a snort, but her voice betrays her. He knows her well enough now in bed to tell when she likes something, and that voice means she is definitely enjoying it, and she’s far from telling him to stop, and so he smirks and gives her a few more on each leg.

She hates that cocky smile. She means to berate him for it but suddenly she feels his tongue on her, just a gentle and cautious stroke over her folds and her insults are muffled by a surprised moan. She feels a shock of pleasure, immediately followed by an unsettling emotion she can only describe as fear. It’s a new thing for her, having someone know what she wants and needs without having to be told. Having someone put her pleasure before theirs. Having someone who actually cares. It’s new, and unfamiliar, and she likes it, and it scares the hell out of her.

She frankly doesn’t know why it suddenly feels too much. It’s not like it’s the first time he’s done this for her, but now, for some reason, every breath, every touch of his skin against hers and every flick of his tongue feels like those three little words she’s avoided for so long, and it’s too much.

So she tugs on his hair, a gentle request to pull away, and the confused look in his eyes almost makes her regret her decision.

“Fitz, um. I think I have to go.”

“Oh. Oh god Jem, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—I mean if you didn’t like it, we could do another—never mind. Sorry.”

She liked it. She really did, and that’s exactly why she has to stop. She liked—no, loved, it and him too much to go through with this only to not see him again for who knows how long. The longer this goes on, the harder it’s going to be to stop again, and if they don’t stop, one of their employers could get to them and she could lose him forever.

“No it’s not, it’s not that.”

“Are you okay?”

Fitz’s expression has gone from dejected to concerned and she feels a fresh wave of affection for him. She smiles and presses a succession of short, chaste kisses on his lips and says, “More than okay. But I think I really need to go now.”

She starts searching the room for her clothes and scrambling into them. He watches her from the bed, looking hurt and confused like a lost puppy, and she can’t look at him because if she looks at him she’s going to climb right back in that bed and never leave.

“Jemma, please stay. I’m sorry. Whatever I did, I’m sorry,” he says finally just as her hand reaches for the doorknob. “Please stay,” he repeats, voice breaking.

She pauses and shakes her head. “I can’t. And…you didn’t do anything wrong.”

He gets up and stands in front of her and touches his fingertips to her hand on the doorknob. “Then why?”

“I’m scared, Fitz. What if S.H.I.E.L.D. finds out about this after what you did today? Or HYDRA?”

“We’ve lasted this long.”

“But that was before you protected me instead of killing me. In front of several agents from both sides.”

Her voice is far from angry, and Fitz recognizes the same emotion he saw that night she broke down in his arms. She’s genuinely afraid. And for a good reason, too. Right decision or not, protecting Jemma _did_ place both of them in danger.

She finally looks up to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry, Fitz,” she says, and her voice cracks and breaks. “I don’t think we should see each other again. Not for a while.”

Fitz takes a deep, shaky breath, knowing what she truly means. _Not ever._

He’d be lying if he said he’s never imagined this scene before, because he has. Jemma saying goodbye. Him letting her go. He’s imagined it a million times and every time it hurt like hell, and yet not even his worst imaginings have prepared him for this.

He tugs Jemma closer and wraps his arms around her, allowing himself the luxury of holding her a few moments longer, for the last time. He then presses her lips to her hair, leaning a bit down to whisper the only two words he can get out without breaking into tears: “Goodbye, Jemma.”

With that, she walks out and Fitz flops down, elbows coming out from under him, and hugs his pillow tight to his chest. Jemma stands outside the door, hand still on the knob, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to will away the memory of the desperation and hurt in his voice as he tried so hard to convince her not to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is: the "stay scene!" One of the most defining moments of this fic and the reason it is titled what it is. And don't worry, some big things (even some good ones!) are coming your way.


	9. i've got a blank space, baby

Jemma sighs as she fixes her third cup of tea for the day, cursing her body for feeling so bloody sore all the time. She can’t really understand why she’s been feeling off lately. Might be because she suddenly stopped what used to be her regular... _activities_ with Fitz. Maybe she’s just adjusting to the change. After all, she’d never done it so regularly before him, only one-night stands. 

Perhaps she’ll do more research and write a paper on the effects of suddenly stopping regular sex cold turkey, she muses as she sips at her tea.

“It’s a bit too early for your tea time, don’t you think?”

Jemma snaps her head up at the sound of the voice, and breaks into a wide smile as HYDRA’s Head of Security (and all-around great person) Bobbi Morse strolls into the pantry.

“I think you should have learned by now that it’s never too early for tea, Barbara.”

Bobbi laughs. “You’ve got a good point there,” she concedes as she pours herself a cup of coffee. “But I’ve still never seen you with it this early. Jemma, is everything okay?”

Jemma shrugs. “Feeling a bit off. I’m sure it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Sure, okay. But you’ll tell me if there’s anything… odd, right, Jemma?” Bobbi says, and Jemma heaves a deep breath before looking at her and nodding with as much sincerity she can muster.

Jemma diverts her attention back to her tea, feeling the warmth trickle down her throat. Somehow, it does little to ease the suspicion that’s clawing away at her chest.

* * *

Jemma stares at the results of the blood test she’s performed on herself until her vision goes blurry.

Human chorionic gonadotropin. hCG. That was one thing she’d never thought she’d see on her blood test.

In the back of her mind, she’d suspected it. She knows all of the signs, and she’d exhibited lots of them. She’d been trying to deny it, telling herself every other reason why each thing could be happening, but here’s the evidence staring her right in the face.

She’s carrying Fitz’s baby. She’s carrying her supposed supreme enemy’s baby.

After they’d agreed to pause their relationship. After she’d walked out on him.

Now she has to go back and tell him she’s going to have a _baby_. That as they’re trying to escape suspicion, her body will start showing a very obvious sign and someone’s bound to put two and two together.

She knows exactly when it happened, too. The only possibility was that they had conceived after Fitz saved her life; that was four weeks ago, and she’d had her period just before that. _Save a life, create a new one_ , she thinks, almost laughing hysterically. It feels surreal to think that for the past month she’s been walking around with a clump of cells inside her that will turn into a person, like she hasn’t fully comprehended yet that she’s the one it’s happening to.

Then she realizes that her hypothesis was entirely wrong. Stopping regular sex had done absolutely nothing to her body; it was simply being pregnant. She frowns, annoyed that she now has to close all of her research tabs.

* * *

With a sigh, Jemma rests her head in one hand and places the other hand on her abdomen, closing her eyes and silently begging the baby to stop making her feel nauseous so she can finish work and maybe finally find the courage to go to Fitz’s.

“Hey, Simmons, you okay?”

She opens her eyes to look at the person who’d spoken and quickly nods. She starts slowly rubbing her stomach in the futile hope of getting her baby to settle. “Just…” She hesitates, but Bobbi is the closest thing she has to a friend in this place, and nothing bad would happen if she told the truth. “Just pregnant, that’s all.”

Bobbi’s eyes widen in surprise and she cocks her head. “You’re _pregnant?_ ”

Jemma quirks an eyebrow at her surprised reaction.

Bobbi holds up her hands guiltily. “I mean. Yeah, okay, I sort of figured that out days ago. But still, congratulations!”

Jemma smiles. “Thanks.”

“So. How far along? Boy or girl?”

“Six weeks, so I don’t know yet.”

“And the father?”

 _Just the guy who’s been trying to bring us down for the past year._ “My boyfriend,” she says instinctively, and she’s surprised at how easily it falls from her lips.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you had a boyfriend.”

“Neither did I,” Jemma confesses, a small smile forming on her lips. “But we’re sort of… on a break.”

“Ugh yes, that does complicate things.” Bobbi nods sympathetically. If there’s anyone who knows about breakups, it’s her. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Jemma groans. “How can I tell him now?”

“I’m not exactly an expert on these things, but I’d say you start by telling him.”

“That really doesn’t help.”

Bobbi shrugs. “The break will end, or it won’t. But then he’ll know.”

“But is it… is it worth it? Seeing him again, I mean?”

“Maybe. Probably. But that’s not the point, Jem. He _deserves_ to know. And you deserve to have someone to do this with. It's a big decision to make, and you shouldn't have to go through that alone.”

Jemma gulps. Bobbi’s right. Fitz deserves to know, and that way, they can talk about it like responsible adults. Besides, it’s just one talk. It’s not like they’d be jumping each other weeks after breaking up, right?

Right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> you can find us on tumblr @youremorethanthatjemma and @ohfiitz!


	10. but you'll come back each time you leave

Jemma grips the edge of the sink as she feels her stomach being turned inside out. The incessant churning makes her groan, and she takes a second to curse every single momblog she’s been reading the past week for trying to make her believe the “joys of motherhood.” _Those spoiled, lying bitches._

After the early-morning retch-fest passes, she plops down on the couch and glares at the clock. She probably has to get ready now. She and Fitz bought tickets to this aeronautics exhibit together months ago. It feels like ages ago now, like a distant memory of another lifetime.

Jemma considers not going. There’s a chance Fitz won’t, and she’s still trying to muster the courage to tell him. Plus, throwing up for half an hour and a sore body don’t really make her feel up to going out.

Nevertheless, she eventually drags herself out of the bathroom and out of the house, figuring she’d looked forward to it for too long not to go. If she saw Fitz, maybe it would even give her the final kick to let him know.

She arrives at the venue and peers around the room for him, not sure if she’s hoping to see him or if she’s not. 

Meanwhile, Fitz meanders through the crowd, trying to keep to himself and remain unnoticed. He stops for a moment at a scientific balloon display and pulls out his phone to take a picture to send to Jemma along with comments on it, before he remembers that he shouldn’t be talking to her and pockets the phone sadly, as he’s done hundreds of times in the past weeks.

That’s when he notices her—a familiar head of short dark brown hair across the room, through the sea of people, and suddenly his mind is empty of everything but her. He frantically pushes through people in his haste to get to her, muttering her name over and over again under his breath.

Just as he gets close to her she starts to move away and he yells her name, his voice full of hope and desperation, and she’d say it was medically impossible but he knows that his heart stops beating when she turns around. Her face immediately lights up and she runs toward him and tackles him in a hug, and he instinctively wraps his arms around her, his movements on auto-pilot as his brain still tries to comprehend that she’s _here_ , now, in his arms.

“I missed you so much,” he eventually manages to choke out, but suddenly realizes that he’s hugging his ex-secret-enemy-with-benefits in a very public place. “I mean. As a friend. I missed you. Platonically.”

It makes her chuckle.

“I missed you too, buddy.” She’d never thought she could miss anybody as much as she missed him after such a relatively short time, and she’s surprised at how easily she can admit that she did.

They break apart after hugging for maybe too long for two very platonic people who weren’t supposed to be together. “So,” Fitz says, “how would you like to look around the rest of this thing together? As two friends who happen to both enjoy science.”

“As friends, sure,” she agrees, smiling and entwining her fingers with his. _Friends. We were always that too._

Most of the day passes by uneventfully, but she keeps glancing at him when he’s not looking and he keeps glancing at her when she’s not looking, and when they reach the half-scale model of a NASA F/A-18 research and mission support aircraft, they look at each other at the same time and he leans in and kisses her before he can think twice about it, because he’s certain he’ll go mad if he doesn’t.

She wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him like her life depends on it. Like she’s sinking and he’s her only lifeline. Like if she stops the world is going to end.

“My place is nearby,” she whispers, trying to pass it off as a casual invitation in an attempt to conceal her nervousness. If this works—and it has to—she’ll be able to finally tell him everything.

“I know. Let’s go. I mean, no, maybe not together. Meet you there in fifteen minutes?”

She nods. She was almost sure she couldn’t do this, but seeing him changed everything, and his mere presence filled her with warmth that her nausea suddenly seems less important than that increased need for intimacy that she now thinks she understands. This way, she can even tell him during their favorite activity, and maybe Fitz will notice her weight gain and bigger boobs and figure it out by himself. He’ll at least be suspicious and disappointed when her breasts are too sore for him to touch.

* * *

This is a terrible idea. 

Logically, Fitz knows that. But the logical side of him is completely overridden by the fact that he’s with Jemma again.

If they do this, he knows she’ll break it off again after. Jemma used to be a one-night-stand person, and so he’s sure she’ll have no trouble sleeping with him tonight and breaking up another time tomorrow. 

 _To be safe_ , she said. But that didn’t stop them from kissing in that exhibit.

He can’t lose her again. If he sleeps with her today, losing her for the second time will break him even worse than before.

So when she goes to the bathroom so that he can leave the venue first, he goes the opposite direction of her flat, back to his own.

Jemma enters her apartment expecting Fitz to be there, waiting in her bed, and his absence feels like a punch in the gut. She reasons he must have stopped for condoms, and she waits, but the longer she waits, the more dread builds up in her.

Before she knows it, she’s curled into a ball on her bed, crying and hating that it’s a thing that she _does_ now. She wraps her arms around her stomach, around the tiny thing inside her. Fitz should be here now, with her, with _them_ , and it should be his hands on her belly, not her own.

She sits up, wipes away her tears, and sets out with renewed purpose and determination. 

* * *

When Fitz didn’t show up to their rendezvous, he thought that was it. He thought they could go back to him being S.H.I.E.L.D. and her being HYDRA, and never speaking, and that would be it. She’d never have to know he’d been so stupid as to fall in love with her. 

He should’ve known better.

Jemma, of course, would want answers.

There’s a knock on his door exactly one hour after they were supposed to meet at her apartment. It’s been the most agonizing month and a half of his life since the day she walked out on him, and frankly, he’s been doing relatively well. He had a brief moment (okay, maybe an entire afternoon) of weakness at the exhibit, but he eventually managed to slap himself back to his senses and resolved to do the right thing. For once. But then she’s in front of him, looking angry and heartbroken and more than a little bit ill, and a flood of emotions rushes through him and he captures her lips in a kiss.

“Jemma,” he sighs, leaning his forehead against hers, eyes clenched tight. “Jemma, Jemma, Jemma, I’m so sorry. I’m so, _so_ sorry.”

“Why didn’t you come?”

“Because I’m a stupid, stupid man.”

“Good to know you’re aware.”

He ushers her into the flat. “Tea?”

She shakes her head and sits.

He sits next to her on the sofa, placing his hand on her lower back comfortingly.

“Fitz, I—I actually have something to tell you,” she starts. She’s nervous, staring at the ground and fiddling with the hem of her sleeve. He pauses, uncomfortable and unsure of what to do. In the year he’s known her, he’s never once seen Jemma Simmons even the slightest bit nervous. Not like this.

“What?”

“I’m pregnant.” She looks up from her lap and brings her eyes up to meet his, anxiously searching his for any sign of his reaction.

Slowly, his face breaks out into a wide grin threatening to split his face in two. “You...you’re...?” He reaches his hand over to hover just above her stomach, looking to her for permission, and she nods, a relieved smile starting to cross her own features. He presses his palm against her abdomen and she’ll never get sick of that look of endless wonder on his face.

“How far along are you?”

“Seven weeks. I was going to tell you earlier. That’s why I asked you to come.”

“Oh, God. Jem…” He berates himself again for being a fucking twat for not going to her. Not only did he foolishly and needlessly deprive himself of Jemma, but his stupidity forced Jemma to deal with the pregnancy news and symptoms on her own. “Jemma, I’m sorry. I’m an idiot.”

She shakes her head. “No, don’t be. Going on a break was my idea.”

“I’m still sorry. Almost two months... _God_ , Jem, you had to go through that, and I—oh, God…”

“Fitz, please. Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh, wait! Do you plan to keep it?” He raises his gaze from her abdomen to her eyes.

She nods, surer now than ever, the decision she’d pretty much made already only solidified after coming here. “I do.”

His smile somehow manages to get even wider. “Then I’d like to be a part of her life from now on, if...if you wouldn’t mind.” He sounds unsure of himself by the end, and so she leans over and gives him a peck on the lips.

“Of _course_ , Fitz. And it’s way too early to tell its gender. But it’s forming arms and legs right now, and hands and feet from them,” she offers.

“No, she’s a beautiful, genius baby girl who’s going to take after her mum and have adorable little fingers and toes,” he says with a smirk, but then returns his gaze to the floor and rubs the back of his neck. “And, um, is it...who’s the father?”

“Fitz!” Jemma yells at him in surprise. “Of course it’s you! I’ve never… Since meeting you, there’s really been no one else. I just thought it was… oh God, Fitz, I thought you _knew._ And you just said you wanted to be part of her life!”

“Yeah, I know… I mean, it’s always been just you, too. For me. And I’d still do it, you know. Even if it wasn’t mine. I would love your child even if half of it were made with inferior genes.”

She rolls her eyes at his last comment and he kisses her, gentle and sweet. This is the softest kiss they’ve shared; hell, probably the _best_ they’ve ever had, because they’ve always just shagged and any kissing was almost always wild and frantic and heated and messy. This is something else. This is something more.

It gets more heated as it continues, but no less tender. Fitz stops and holds out his hand. “Bed?” He’d never tell her this out loud, but while they’ve done it dozens of times here, Fitz doesn’t want this to occur on the couch tonight, not when Jemma’s carrying their child. He wants her in his bed. And he’s going to make sure that this time, it’s not just a quick romp in the sack; tonight he’s making love to her.

She takes his hand and follows him, and once they’ve reached it she lies down on her back and he climbs on top of her, pulls off her shirt, and then pauses to spend a moment marveling at the sight of her.

She’s not showing fully yet. There’s a slight thickening around her waist, so slight it’s hardly even there, but to Fitz, who’s spent the last year memorizing every part of her, the difference is obvious. He gently runs his fingers over it, tracing the circle of the bump already starting to form, and tears start to well up in his eyes.

“Fitz, that is _not_ what I want your fingers doing right now.” Because it’s been seven weeks. It’s been seven weeks and she missed him and she’s craving him and she’s growing a baby, and so she’s very impatient for him to get on with it already. She just needs Fitz, every facet of him.

But she lifts her head to look at him and he’s full-out crying, tears soaking his face and he’s sniffling, and he hasn’t stopped caressing her almost-bump. He leans down and presses his mouth to it, then simply rests his head there and closes his eyes.

She smiles fondly. “Idiot.” She pulls him to her by the tie and kisses him, undoing and casting away the tie without breaking their contact, still trying to speed along getting him to do what she wants.

“Hey Jem?” he whispers, forehead pressed against hers and voice still shaking from crying.

“Hm?”

“You—You don’t regret it do you?” he asks, ‘it’ being a lot of things.

Getting pregnant. Sleeping with me. _Us._

She supposes she should. She supposes it should feel like a mistake, especially considering the nature of their work, but being here, half-naked in his bed and carrying his child— _their_ child—feels like exactly where she should be. She opens her eyes and meets his, bluer than ever and still brimming with tears and tenderness, and she realizes it’s the first time in her life that she ever felt… _loved._ So no, she doesn’t regret it. She decides that she could make a million mistakes and a million wrong decisions with this man and she wouldn’t regret it.

She brushes a brief kiss on his nose. On each of his cheeks. Below his eyes. On his forehead. On his lips. Because she can, and she wants to.

“No.” Oh great, now she’s also crying.

“Good. I mean, me too. I mean I don’t—”

“Fitz.” She stops him with a soft kiss, leaving their foreheads and their noses pressed together, and it occurs to her briefly that this is the first time they’ve ever been this emotionally open and intimate, but _god_ does it feel right. “I know.” Because she does.

He leans down to kiss her again, keeping it slow and gentle, and he wants his lips and his tongue and his hands on her skin to tell her just how much he wants this, _her_ , but it’s simply not enough. So he pulls back, takes her hand, and presses a kiss to her wrist before saying it:

“I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOAH. One week between chapter updates? _WOAH_. But we hope y'all enjoyed this! Some parts of this chapter were among the very first ones we wrote, more than a year ago. So. Yikes.
> 
> You may find us on tumblr @youremorethanthatjemma and @ohfiitz!


	11. 'cause we're young and we're reckless (we'll take this way too far)

Fitz wakes up with a start as he hears a creak echo through the quiet of his apartment. He blinks a few times and glances at the clock. Three a.m. He extracts his arm from where it’s pillowed under Jemma’s head, pressing his lips to her hair before rising from the bed. He grabs the pistol stored safely in his bedside drawer and silently makes his way to the source of the sound. He sucks in a breath, gripping the pistol more firmly in his pajama pocket. It’s been a while since he’s heard a disturbance in the middle of the night, and the building admin is pretty strict with keeping animals out of the apartments, so it’s either someone trying to murder him in his sleep, or…

“Bobbi?”

“Hey, Fitz,” Bobbi greets casually, looking up from the kitchen counter where she appears to be in the middle of making a sandwich. “Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just excited to see me?” she remarks, smirking.

“Huh? Oh uh-a…a gun, actually,” Fitz stammers, placing the pistol on the table while struggling to fight the blush creeping up his cheeks.

“Relax, Fitz. I’m just teasing.”

“I know. Just...” he flails his right hand in her general direction and places the other on his lower back. “What the hell, Bobbi?”

“What? I’m just checking up on you.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be keeping your eyes on HYDRA, not your fellow S.H.I.E.L.D agents? And you didn’t think to tell me beforehand before sneaking into my flat at three in the bloody morning?”

Bobbi proudly pats her finished sandwich and shrugs. “Look. Judging from how…spent you look right now—” She pauses to sweep her eyes over his mussed hair and a couple of very visible hickeys on his neck. “I’m sure you would have been too busy to take my call anyway.”

“I’m… that’s not…why are you really here, Bobbi?”

She faces him and crosses her arms, fixing him with that look he knows all too well, the one that says he’s in big trouble.

“Jemma Simmons.”

“HYDRA’s Science Division Head? Yeah, um, wh-what about her?”

Bobbi raises an eyebrow incredulously. “Really, Fitz? You’re doing this now? Are you gonna keep acting like a stupid person or do you want me to wake your pregnant girlfriend in your room?”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Fitz protests instinctively, knowing that Jemma wouldn’t appreciate slapping labels onto her like that. “But uh—yeah, please don’t wake her up.”

“Hmm that’s funny, because I remember her referring to you as her boyfriend just a week ago.”

“Did she really?” Fitz barely gets the chance to restrain the excitement in his voice, and Bobbi laughs at the way he chokes at the realization. “I mean, how - how did you know? About us?”

“Ugh, please. For two genius spies, you’re not exactly good at keeping a secret relationship.” Bobbi takes a bite from her sandwich, thoroughly enjoying how Fitz’s face is turning a very bright shade of red. “Holding hands at the park? Come on, Fitz. I know you failed field assessments but _surely_ you’re aware that HYDRA has eyes everywhere. Quite literally. If you’ve been paying any attention to what the Insight Helicarriers were capable of.”

“Well that’s… wait, does that mean—”

“Fitz? What’s hap—Bobbi?”

Fitz and Bobbi both turn their heads to the kitchen entryway to find Jemma in her pajamas, looking rather worried and terribly confused.

She stares at Bobbi. Then at Fitz. Then back to Bobbi. Fitz is opening and closing his mouth repeatedly, making odd squeaking noises, and after a minute Bobbi gets sick of the awkward silence.

“Okay, we all need to talk.”

“Are you...having an affair?” Jemma says, her voice small and soft and hurt.

Bobbi’s face immediately contorts into an expression of extreme disgust and horror and Fitz yelps, _“No!”_

“God, no. No, no, no, no, no. Never,” Bobbi adds vehemently, her expression unchanged.

“Well, you don’t have to sound so insulted,” Fitz mutters.

“Oh, yes I do.” She shakes her head to compose herself so she can return to more pressing matters.

“Listen, Jemma. What I’m going to discuss with you two is very important.” She sucks in a breath. “First things first,  I’m S.H.I.E.L.D. Fitz and I knew each other from way back our Academy days, but I’ve been undercover at HYDRA for years. I’ve been keeping tabs on all your… _activities_ , but I think that’s a conversation we’ll have to save for another day.”

Bobbi takes a significant pause to look pleadingly at both of them, trying to express the importance of the discussion.

“I’m here to talk about your parents, Jemma.”

“My parents?” Jemma scrunches up her face in confusion. “What about them? They’ve been dead nearly my entire life.”

“Yes, but what you’ve been told about them isn’t exactly an accurate account. Jemma, one of my missions is to untangle the web of lies HYDRA has been weaving for decades, and the story of your parents is one I’ve managed to unspool. With the help of Fitz.”

Jemma turns to Fitz incredulously and Fitz rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry I didn’t tell you. I wanted to make sure we had the whole story first. Although I didn’t think it would be told at three a.m.,” he adds, shooting a small glare at Bobbi.

“Fitz,” Bobbi starts slowly. “It was urgent.”

“If it was urgent you’d be knocking on my door, not stealthily making PB&J.”

Bobbi shrugs. “I was hungry.”

“Guys! Could you please? I’m so…I’m very confused.”

“Yeah, no, sorry. Okay, so while digging through the archives Skye and I noticed a couple of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents named Simmons who disappeared during the 80’s. It was… the file said they had a daughter named Jemma, so I asked for Bobbi’s help to dig deeper.”

“But my parents were HYDRA,” Jemma says. “They were undercover in S.H.I.E.L.D., like everyone was.”

Bobbi shakes her head. “No. It was the other way around. Well, to be fair, even back then the lines between HYDRA and S.H.I.E.L.D. were already blurred. Especially in the Science Division, where most of HYDRA as we know it now was rebuilt by Zola. Your parents _were_ recruited to HYDRA. That was where they met.”

“They fell in love too, Jemma.”

“What? No. HYDRA agents don’t fall in love. They...they _can’t._ ”

“Exactly,” Fitz says softly, meeting Jemma’s eyes. It’s an answer and a comforting gesture all at once. _I know you’re not in love. I know you can’t. It’s okay._

“So they went back to S.H.I.E.L.D., tried to defect and stay there permanently, where they thought they could be safe. They had you. But HYDRA saw that as a betrayal.”

“And so HYDRA killed them,” Bobbi finishes. “And they took you. I think they wanted to shape you to what they hoped your parents would be. They wanted you to be ruthless and incapable of and unwilling to love…which they couldn’t do, the way I see it now.” She gives both of them a gentle smile.

Jemma supposes she should be angry. Or distraught. Or surprised. Or confused, at the very least. She supposes it’s meant to shatter everything she’s ever believed in, everything she’s been made to believe about herself. But instead she feels warmth pool in her stomach. Whether it’s the baby or the intensity of the revelation, she can’t say, but somehow she thinks she’s learning to truly know herself for the first time. So she reaches for Fitz’s hand under the table and grips it, and she thinks, she _knows_ , she is finally coming home.

“No. No, they couldn’t.”

Fitz’s head snaps up to look at her in surprise. She knows he’s shocked that she’s almost admitting it, and she squeezes his hand tighter and pecks his cheek, then leans her head on his shoulder.

* * *

A couple of hours later, Fitz and Simmons settle silently on the couch, legs tangled together under a heavy blanket and each holding a large mug of steaming hot chocolate. Not long after Bobbi’s visit, Jemma was hit by a very early bout of morning sickness, and they’ve spent the past hour re-learning how to breathe, trying to recover from both the chaos of morning sickness and from the inevitable aftermath of Bobbi’s revelations.

Simply put, Jemma is a failed experiment. A product, both by nature and by choice, of everything HYDRA stands against. And now Bobbi suspects that some of the higher ups are becoming aware of her association with a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.

The five a.m. air is quiet but thick with the worries now looming over them, and they breathe each of the dark pieces together, in and out, in and out, until the ebb and flow of their heartbeats are steady enough to lend some sense of peace in the room.

It’s Jemma who speaks first.

“Look what they did to them, Fitz. What they do to people who…” _are in love._ “...care about each other,” she trails off lamely.

“Are you saying we should break up again?”

“No! I don’t know what I’m saying. I don’t know what to do.” Tears start to well up in her eyes. “I know I don’t want that. I hated that. And I also know I can’t give up this baby.”

Fitz silently uses the hand not holding his hot chocolate to stroke her hair.

“But, Fitz, what if they take this baby too? Train it to be a weapon? I was raised by HYDRA, and look how fucked up I am. I can’t let that happen.”

“Me either. That can’t happen.” Fitz sighs. “I wish we could just go away. Far from all this S.H.I.E.L.D. and HYDRA nonsense.”

There’s a pause, and then she looks up at him with red-rimmed eyes. “Let’s do it,” she whispers, her voice a painful, broken croak. “Let’s run away. Escape this.”

“Really?” Fitz is surprised at how easy it feels, this choice of choosing each other. It’s a big leap, and not one that two rational genius minds would typically make, but he’d make it in a heartbeat if it was with her.

She nods, firm and determined. “Yeah. We can change our identities and live without fear of our employers killing us.” She leans up and kisses him, then shifts so that she is kneeling beside him on the couch.

“Run away with me, Leopold Fitz.”

 Fitz gives her a small smile. “Yeah. Okay. Alright. Let’s do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [insert footage here of Fitzsimmons galloping away on horses into the sunset together]
> 
> Three chapters three weekends in a row, can you believe?
> 
> you can find us on tumblr @ohfiitz and @youremorethanthatjemma!


	12. so it's gonna be forever

“Skye! Skye, open up!”

Fitz is greeted by a bleary-eyed, grumpy, bedhead-ed Skye. “It’s six a.m.”

“We waited until a reasonable time!”

“Six is not reasonable. Come back at eleven.” She starts to shut the door, but Fitz sticks his arm in the way and gives her his best pleading look.

“Please, Skye. We need your help.”

Skye sighs and steps aside to let him in. “Fine. But you owe me big-time, Fitz.”

Then it sinks in.

“Wait…did you say ‘ _we_ ’?”

“Yeah,” Fitz confirms, a wide smile forming on his clearly tired face. “Yeah, I did. Could we, um, can we maybe sit down and talk for a while? I’ll explain everything.”

Skye leads him to the dining room and they sit at opposite sides of the table, with Fitz rubbing his sweaty palms on his jeans and shaking his legs with excitement.

Skye raises an eyebrow and leans forward on the table. “Whoa, Fitz, you’re happy. You had sex last night, didn’t you?”

“Actually, yes. Yes I did,” Fitz says proudly.

Skye stares at him. “Wow, go Fitz! Congrats, dude. So is this still the mystery girlfriend you mentioned a few weeks back, or just some random girl?”

“I, uh, the first one. I mean, I’m not _sure_ she is, calling her my girlfriend might scare her, what if she doesn’t think that—”

“How long have you been seeing her again?”

“A year.”

Skye hits him on the arm. “A _year_? You’ve been going out with this girl for a year and you never told me? Leopold Fitz, you little shit. Anyway, she’s totally your girlfriend after that long.”

Fitz grins and rubs the nape of his neck, blushing. “Heh. Yeah. I guess.”

He takes a deep breath. “Listen, Skye, I have something to tell you. But you have to promise you won’t tell anyone. Not even Trip.” He pauses. “Well, Trip might be alright. We’ll see if we need him.”

Skye’s listening raptly now, excited to hear a secret.

“So...Jemma Simmons. The head of HYDRA science. Who we’ve been tracking down and hunting for the past year.”

Skye’s jaw drops. “No way. Fitz, _that’s_ your girlfriend? Jemma Simmons? Your supreme enemy?”

“Yeah,” he says meekly.

“How the hell did that happen?”

“I met her in a bar the night before S.H.I.E.L.D. came across her the first time. I didn’t know who she was, and then I found out, but we continued it anyway, and I love her, Skye. I love her so much.”

“Okaaaaay…” Skye starts hesitantly. “That’s great, I mean, I like seeing you happy, but I’m sorry, I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that you’re banging _the head of HYDRA’s science division._ ”

“Oh, and uh, she’s pregnant.”

A pause. A blink. And then:

“What?!” Skye yells, banging her hands on the table. “What the hell were you thinking, Fitz?”

“Hey, it’s not like I did it on pur—”

“Don’t tell me you’re keeping it.”

“...”

“That is a bad idea. That is a _terrible_ idea. A secret relationship with the pregnant enemy? I doubt you’d be able to — oh hell _no_. No, no, no, no. Nope.”

“...”

“Fitz… what are you planning to do?”

Fitz sighs and runs his hands over his face. “I, uh...we’re going to run away. That’s why we need you.”

“To do what?”

“Give us new identities.”

“Fitz. I… I can’t do that.” Skye drops her gaze to her hands, not wanting to see the disappointed look on her best friend’s face. “You know I want you to be happy. More than anything. But this? This is huge. It’s not… this isn’t what you wanted. We were going to run S.H.I.E.L.D. Protect people. That was always our dream, remember?”

She meets his eyes then, and it’s a silent plea to do just that. To remember. To remember how two kids—both searching for a home they never knew and scrambling for the courage they never thought they had—learned to dream of a world where children didn’t have to be as scared as they were. That was them. It’s what they were supposed to be.

“Skye, you have to understand. She’s… Jemma, she’s my dream now.”

Skye has always been a little scared of Fitz’s eyes. Anyone could get lost in that sea of blue, but only someone who has known his heart for years would recognize that there is a lot more to them. _Curiosity. Bravery. Fear. Love._ Everything Leopold Fitz is made of. But now she sees something new: desperation, with tiny flecks of hope. And she hates how she loves him too much to resist.

“Fine. I will try to understand.”

Fitz flashes her a warm, appreciative smile, and Skye watches curiously as he makes his way towards her bedroom. She hears him call out softly and a few moments later, a girl she’s only ever seen in surveillance pictures steps out from her room.

“What the—? How did you…?”

“I snuck in.” Jemma’s unable to stop her beaming smile at that, and she bounces on her toes and squeezes Fitz’s arm gleefully. “I can still do it! I haven’t done that in so long, and I can even do it carrying a baby!”

Fitz grins dopily back at her. “Congratulations.”

“I’ll print you a Baby’s First Break-In sticker later,” Skye says dryly.

Skye extends a hand to Jemma. “Hi. I’m Skye. Fitz’s only friend other than you, probably.”

“Hey!” Fitz protests.

Jemma takes the hand and smiles. “Jemma. But you...you know that, you’ve been trying to track me down.”

“Uh. Yeah. Sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry about it. Sorry I killed your agents.”

“Yeah, that was very…HYDRA of you. ”

Jemma gives her another apologetic smile, and despite the general awkwardness of the situation, Skye thinks, maybe she’s doing the right thing. Getting these people out of the war.

* * *

“One last time, Jem, are you sure you want to do this? It’s up to you.”

She rubs her hand over her bump. Cradling it, she nods firmly, and Skye clicks. And with that, Leopold Fitz and Jemma Simmons, agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. and HYDRA, no longer exist, wiped away from any database.

“And there you go,” Skye says after a few minutes. “You’re free.”

Fitz turns to Jemma and smiles, gazing at her with all the love in the world.

“We’re free,” she repeats, her face lighting up, and she pulls him in for a kiss. “Thank you, Skye,” she adds as an afterthought when they break apart.

Skye looks amused. “Don’t mention it.”

“Ready?” asks Fitz, and Jemma nods again and takes his hand.

“Hey, be careful out there,” says Skye. “And someday, when it’s safe, track me down so I can meet my little niece or nephew. I’m not letting you get away with that.”

They nod a last gesture of thanks to their friend before taking off to the unknown.

He never thought he’d ever leave S.H.I.E.L.D., the organization that has been his home since he was a skinny little sixteen-year-old from Scotland. But Jemma is his home now. Jemma Simmons, with her bright brown eyes and her arrogant smile. Jemma Simmons, who tries so hard to hide her heart that’s too big for the heartless world she grew up in.

She never thought she’d end up here, broke and nameless and on the run from the two biggest intelligence organizations in the world. She’s been trained to be a spy since she was ten and identity changes are nothing she wasn’t prepared for. HYDRA, after all, was all about survival. But this, this is not how she expected to survive. She’s surprised at the decisions she’s been making, and she’s surprised that she actually doesn’t care. Apparently, even years of training under a terrorist organization could not have prepared her for this cocky Scottish boy who would sweep her off her feet. God, it’s so cliche and rom-com-y and _stupid_. It’s stupid. It should feel stupid. But it feels like the smartest choice she’s ever made, her two PhDs be damned.

She squeezes his hand and closes her eyes, breathing out a silent goodbye to the life she never chose and prepares to say hello to the first time in her life when she chooses exactly what she wants.

_It’s time to go home._

Fitz and their baby. They’re her home. They’re more home than anything she’s ever known. And they’re the home she’ll keep coming back to.

 _If this is home,_ she muses as Fitz presses a soft kiss to the back of her hand, _maybe, maybe it won’t be so difficult to stay._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it. The end. Happily ever after.
> 
> We didn't plan it to end here, but it worked. Don't worry, though—a sequel is already in the works, and possibly even a prologue. We're not done with this universe yet. ;)
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading and sticking with this fic! It's been a wild ride.
> 
> Oh! And a brief note on the Skye thing, we wrote this at around the earlier part of S2, and we felt it'd be weird to suddenly switch to Daisy, so...


End file.
